


Heartmask

by Omoni



Series: Original Fiction [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bisexual Character, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hidden magic society, Lesbian Character, Magical school, Modern Fantasy, romantic fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omoni/pseuds/Omoni
Summary: When Rupendra first met Anya.A new short story from my original story series that is for now unnamed, this is a sort of introduction to the two main characters of a (hopeful) 6-7 book series I plan to write. This is kind of an experiment; I want to see if my original stories can be made popular if updated and added to enough. I'm tired of rejections, so read it for free.Don't worry if, at first, you don't quite understand what is being discussed or what certain terms or phrases mean. Everything will be revealed and unravelled as the story progresses. Feel free to ask questions, but please remember this while doing so, especially if I do not answer; it means I can't.
Relationships: Rupendra/Anya
Series: Original Fiction [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1164671
Comments: 9
Kudos: 8





	1. Merry Meet

**Author's Note:**

> CW: post-suicide attempt scars.

_**September, 1999.** _

Anya was fifteen that year, and Rupendra was sixteen – a year older, held back once. She had transferred to the Academy that year, despite already having been through grade nine, and for reasons Anya didn't know, yet, she had missed most of that year, now forced to repeat it at the Academy.

They'd met in the library, during Anya's lunch and Rupendra's spare third period. That year, Eunice, Anya's older demi-sister, had no spares that matched with Anya, and because everyone knew who she was by then, they were all too intimidated to approach her, much less be her friend.

It was always like that, really; once they knew, they either got scared and took off, or tried a bit... only to take off later. Some even took it out _on_ her, either with words or fists, but thankfully, those moments were far and few between.

Rupendra, however, had had a _really_ bad year, and, by the new one, she had found herself dreadfully behind and forced out of her own – protective – bubble.

That first morning, Rupendra stumbled into the library, her face red and her entire body awash in shivers, when Anya first saw her; she’d almost tripped over the theft detectors at the entrance, and Anya found herself getting to her feet to help her.

Anya, even then, was just _that_ kind of person. She cared, not because of any birthright – especially given that she was adopted, and would never rule – but because she simply genuinely _liked_ _people_ , and was dreadfully lonely.

Rupendra's arms were full of her books by the time Anya had caught up to her, the shoulder bag hanging off of the older girl's arm in a way that made it a hazard whenever she turned too quickly. She did this often, making it catch onto anything and everything.

Which was how Rupendra finally noticed: her bag had caught onto _Anya_.

She looked up quickly, dark, velvet-brown eyes peeking up from beneath lovely, thick black eyebrows, her soft brown complexion flushed and sweaty, especially along her hairline. Said hair was currently loose and unkempt, tumbling around her shoulders in frizzy waves, some caught in various parts of her clothing. Her face was narrow and her cheekbones high, and her nose was long and delightfully hooked. She had full lips and a strong jawline, one slightly obscured by bright, flashy earrings. She wore no make-up, but her clothes were so colourful that she didn't need to. They hung loose, making her figure a mystery, but judging by her forearms and neck, she worked out: she was slender and toned.

In short, to Anya, she was _gorgeous_ , and Anya was speechless.

What she didn't realise was that Rupendra was caught alongside her bag by this younger girl.

Anya was shorter than Rupendra and rounder, her own clothes baggy, in jeans and a flannel sweater. Both were complemented by a femme undershirt that flattered that roundness and added some fanciness. Her steel-grey eyes peered over her glasses and widened when they focused (she was nearsighted), and Rupendra's gaze picked out the red marking within her right iris right away, the sight stunning her. Anya's face was also round, her nose a little squat, but she too had a full-lipped smile – though when she did, she seemed careful to hide her teeth. Her hair was longer than Rupendra's own, a bright and shiny brown that waved well past her shoulders, a tall forehead hidden beneath a thick fringe that hid thicker, unkempt, dark brown eyebrows. She also wore no make-up, her pink skin pale as well as patched with shy red.

She also appeared to lack any noticeable jewellery, at first.

Rupendra started shaking, again, and she almost dropped her books. She had no idea what she'd done to earn such a pretty look, but she didn't want it to stop. She felt so hot she was certain this girl could feel it hovering between them, and she started to feel ashamed, instead.

That was, until Anya's eyes widened, noticing those shivers and remembering why she was here in the first place. She automatically assumed it was _recognition_ , so she took advantage of the silence to take charge, before 'the fawning' began.

She reached up and took hold of the two books that were about to tumble and held them under one arm, before leaning down and unhooking the bag from her sweater. Her own face was red, but when she looked up again, she smiled faintly.

“Let's go sit down, okay?” were her first words to Rupendra. “You look so overwhelmed, new, and if you know anything about me by now, you know I will _not_ allow _that_.”

The words were playful, as kind and as soft as Anya, herself, looked, and Rupendra felt her stomach – and heart – flutter.

“I _am_ new,” she confessed weakly, without making a move. She couldn't tell if she had knees, anymore - and she wasn't sure if she minded. “I'm a freshman, uh, first year. I'm… uh… new...” Shame returned to her, making her feel uncomfortable and on the spot, and she went quiet.

Anya nodded, however, giving her a moment before she responded – thus saving Rupendra further embarrassment. “I am, too,” she agreed. “But it's pretty obvious why _I_ already know my way around here, so I won't bore you with those details...”

Rupendra looked as confused as she felt, as she honestly didn't know _what_ she was supposed to know, and honestly would have loved to know it. Shyness, however, made her clumsy, in both word and action, and she simply blinked, feeling her cheeks burn hotter.

Anya suddenly jumped when she noticed, standing up taller and fixing her glasses, shoving them up her nose. “I'm sorry! Where did you want to sit? I'll help you bring your books over, then leave you be, I'm so sorry...”

It wasn't what _Anya_ personally wanted, but because her status clearly intimidated this poor girl, she didn't want to force her company upon her, anymore.

Rupendra felt her stomach flutter – then flop. “Please,” she suddenly heard herself whisper, shaking harder. She was already feeling so scared, so confused, barely able to accept where she was, as who she was… “Please _help_ me!”

Anya swallowed, nodding and reaching out, curving her other hand around one of Rupendra's shaky forearms.

Rupendra's eyes followed it and saw it was her right, and upon its middle finger was a ring, shaped into a symbol she recognised but didn't quite remember, one sporting a bright crystal that changed colours based on the light, cast within what looked like solid silver (it was stainless steel).

“Follow me,” Anya murmured, afraid her normally loud voice would scare this gentle girl away – the last thing she wanted. “I know a secluded place.”

In silence, Rupendra allowed Anya to practically hold her hand and lead her into a closed-off corner in the library, one that was made specifically for Anya – and Eunice – to use for ‘extra-curricular' studies (unquestionable privacy).

No one would ever dare bother her there unless it was a true emergency.

Rupendra knew none of this, and therefore was confused by the odd looks she was given as she was led away – before she then disappeared behind a wall, the silence sudden and almost deafening.

The room itself was small, but utilised well. It held two desks, facing opposite walls, and on one wall was a printer, a shredder, a rubbish bin, and a pile of paper. On the other side was a photocopier, another shredder, another bin, and a phone. Any other space was filler by bookshelves, and those shelves were either dusted with books or stuffed with them.

Rupendra froze, and Anya turned to her and smiled, walking over to a table and placing Rupendra's books upon it. She then led Rupendra to the emptier desk and waved her hand at it.

“This one is Eunice's, my older demi-sister,” she revealed, still smiling kindly. She held out her hands, but Rupendra merely starred at them.

Any let them drop, but she smiled. “You can use this place for as long as you'd like, okay? If anyone gives you trouble, have the librarians page me.”

Rupendra felt so helpless that she couldn't help it – her eyes filled with tears. “I'm so sorry,” she choked out, feeling so lost. “I don't know your name, or whoever, uh… what's their name, I’m so sorry… whose desk this is? And I’ve had such a-a hard year _already_ \--!”

She hadn't meant to say _that_. She hadn't meant to say anything past the second apology, but when she’d started talking, Anya was suddenly staring up at her, her smile disappearing and her face falling into one Rupendra had never dreamt of…

 _Empathy_.

Nobody had ever looked at her like that.

All her life, it had been _sympathy_ , or _pity._

_Or disgust..._

_Never_ empathy.

_Until now…_

Rupendra felt her face fall, and to her growing dismay, she started to cry – ugly, gulping tears, the kind that a child made when they finally understand what death means – and she couldn't stop, even when she tried to.

Anya immediately went into action, realising her mistakes at once, and she quickly reached up and pulled the rest of Rupendra's books free of her hands, something she allowed with no fight. When Anya took her bag, Rupendra simply cried harder. Anya set them all on the middle table, then pulled a chair out for Rupendra.

Rupendra dropped into it, hunched over, and covered her face with her hands, bursting into heart-wrenching sobs, losing any hope of fighting it, anymore.

She had already humiliated herself – what was a little more?

Anya very carefully grabbed her own chair and pulled it over, then sat down a few feet away, wanting to give this poor girl space as well as support, unaware that Rupendra had assumed she'd either left or was about to.

But suddenly, once Rupendra had finally managed to calm herself, she heard that soft voice enquire, “What's your name?”

She jumped, her hands jerking away from her face and her head going up painfully. Her eyes met Anya's, and Anya noticed they looked almost _blue_ in this light, and less brown, than they had before.

_Was it the lighting? Or was it... from tears?_

“You said you're new?” Anya went on, her face gentle and kind – but even this early, Rupendra could still see it: pained empathy. She looked like she wanted to cry – but on _Rupendra's_ behalf.

 _Who_ is _this girl?_ she found herself thinking, her heart pounding with so many feelings at once.

As though asked, Anya answered.

“I'm Anya,” she heard the girl say calmly, placing her palm upon her chest with a smile. “I thought you knew that, already. I'm so _vain_!” She then giggled, proving she was teasing them both, and not meanly.

Something about that charmed Rupendra even more, and she felt her heart start to slow down – and warm up.

Before Rupendra could protest, Anya was going on, her hands on her knees as she leaned forward, her smile widening and her eyes sparking behind her glasses.

“I'm so glad _I_ found you,” Anya confessed. “You looked so scared! You don't need to be; the Academy is great! I've known it all my life!”

Rupendra blinked with surprise. “You have?” she managed to get out, her contralto voice thankfully calm – if a bit raspy.

Anya felt her own heart thud a bit, the sound of her voice oddly getting beneath her skin, but in a _good_ way.

“I have,” she agreed. “I grew up here. I'm the second daughter of the Headmistress – Mistress Mondina Corandia. You've been told about her, eh?”

 _Now_ this secret room made a bit more sense, and Rupendra felt slightly intimidated for a moment –until Anya's smile widened, and she felt those nervous snakes unravel within her belly.

“I just transferred here, after failing ninth grade last year, at a regular school. I didn't know about this place til three months ago.” Rupendra heard herself say this, but she didn't take it back. She suddenly _wanted_ to trust Anya, _wanted_ to get to know her, as well as get her to know _Rupendra_.

 _She_ was lonely, too.

“I had a _really_ bad year,” she whispered. “I lost everyone I knew over a huge, life-changing decision, a change I _needed_ to make to keep _living_ , but it was… too much… for a lot of people to... understand…”

Anya's eyes, as expected, grew interested, and with an inward wince, Rupendra waited for ‘the question'.

Instead, Anya blinked once, then nodded, saying nothing – but clearly still encouraging her to go on.

So she did. She didn't go into the heart of what that change was – she simply could not, not even with this kind girl, not _this_ soon – but for the entire spare, they sat across from each other and simply… _talked_.

Got to know each other.

Became fast friends.

Became _best_ friends.

Anya learnt that Rupendra's parents were married and she had a little sister named Suhani. She'd lived in Port Credit until last year, and admitted she didn't miss her hometown, eager to start anew. She lived on-site, in the dormitories, like Anya did, then confessed that her relationship with her family was strained at best, and she didn't see any hope of repair anytime soon.

She was, she confessed, all alone, and because of that decision she somehow managed to not regret.

Thus, she couldn't explain _why_ that was, not this soon, but she had no other excuse as to why she'd messed up so badly over a year.

Now caught, she froze, suddenly certain she'd blown it with _Anya_ , now, too.

Anya unknowingly saved her, forever earning her respect and devotion.

“Your _magic_ ,” she concluded, her grey eyes so dark that the red part seemed to _glow_. Her expression was grim. “They can't accept its reality. They refuse accept the true you. They won't see what has always been. So you're a late bloomer?"

Rupendra felt her entire body relax, as if dropped from a great height, only it felt _wonderful_. She felt the tense terror ease from her muscles, and she felt the blood start to move through her body like it should, instead of like sludge. And before she knew it, she found herself smiling, nodding a little while one hand reaching up to push her damp hair from her sweaty forehead.

But as she raised her arm, she slowly realised: she’d forgotten.

She watched with sudden cold dread as Anya's expressive eyes followed the gesture, focusing upon her now-revealed wrist, the sleeve moving away from it as she lifted it.

A thick, bright red, still-healing line of a scar, one flanked by broken-up, parallel lines and patterns of dots outside each.

Stitch marks.

Rupendra lowered her arm and her sleeve quickly, that terror returning, but suddenly, she felt that hand taken between Anya's, startling her into immobility – but, for once, _not_ in a bad way.

Anya's hands were cool, and her fingertips were mostly smooth, a few on her right calloused. Both girls had lowered their eyes to Rupendra's arm, and without a word, Rupendra was the one who pulled her own sleeve up _higher_.

The scar was new – barely a year old – and was vertical.

It had clearly been intentional.

With a grim smile, Rupendra held up her other wrist and shook its sleeve down, revealing a second, similar scar.

Anya's expression fell, but her hands merely held tighter. She paled, and her eyes slowly filled with tears.

“You came to the right place,” she whispered. “We will let you be yourself. We will help you heal, inside _and_ out.”

“Rupendra,” the older girl suddenly blurted out, her voice breaking as she felt tears of her own. “M-my name.”

Anya looked up, then smiled faintly. “I like it. It's very pretty. It suits you."

Nobody had said such a thing to her, before – _ever_.

That was the first chance that Rupendra had, one that would have allowed her to reveal the _true_ reason why her wrists were scarred, but she was afraid. She could feel camaraderie, connection, with Anya, could feel the stirrings of an unconditional friendship, and yearned for it to be true.

But it was too soon. It was too scary. Too much.

So she simply smiled back, though her blush was genuine. “Th-thank you,” she squeaked out, her eyes darting between Anya's. “Your... your eyes are pretty, too. Is that… red… real?”

Anya's eyes widened, then darkened, before she shifted her head, so that her eyes were hidden behind the glare of light upon her lenses. Her smile became strained, and suddenly, Rupendra realised her error: she'd crossed a line she hadn't known was there, and was horrified.

“Yes. It's from a childhood injury,” was all Anya offered, her voice short and soft. "From when I was very small."

Rupendra got the hint and nodded. “I'm sorry. That must have been terrible. Does it affect your vision?”

That question had Anya both relaxing and turning back to her. “No,” she replied. “It's just a colour difference. I wear glasses for reasons unrelated to it. It doesn't mean anything like that - or at all.”

She was wrong. She was _very_ wrong.

But she didn't know it, yet. Therefore, what she told was the truth – as she knew it.

It wasn't her fault that she didn't know the rest of her own story.

Rupendra nodded again, then swallowed hard, her eyes going down to her hands. She didn't wear much jewellery, save her earrings (she was _obsessed_ with them, had a pair for almost every colour in the rainbow), but seeing her new friend wearing a ring, now she wondered if she should try rings, too…

Anya watched Rupendra quietly, waiting for her to speak, as it looked like she had more to say.

But all that came out was, “What does that mean?”

She was pointing to Anya’s ring, and Anya went pink, her eyes lighting up.

Rupendra blinked, the sight making her feel… _feelings_ … and she shifted a little, pretending her clothes needed smoothing out to hide it.

“It's a _claddagh_ ,” Anya said shyly. “Don't laugh. Yes, I got the idea from _Buffy_ , but I _am also_ part Irish--,”

Rupendra smiled, then, and Anya knew from that that she was understood, and it made her smile in return, if more shyly.

“I just like the design, like how it looks and what it means,” she murmured, looking down at it and touching it.

“I think I remember,” Rupendra confessed. “Love, loyalty, and friendship?”

Anya looked back up, smiling wider – so wide that she showed her teeth a little, forgetting to cover them. She had an overbite, and thanks to her love of both cola and coffee, they were rather stained. She brushed and used whitening kits, but they remained the same, so she simply self-censored her smile.

Rupendra stared, her heart racing and her body forgetting to breathe. She noticed the flaws, but noticed how little they took away from how lovely she truly thought Anya was. That bright, genuine smile made her shiver – and in a _good_ way.

“You nailed it,” Anya agreed. “I'm so glad you remembered! Right, so--,” She moved her chair closer, then took off her ring, offering it to Rupendra to look at. “Check it.”

Rupendra did, her face reddening when she felt how warm it was, despite the metal, thanks to Anya's own body heat. She turned it up and down, and saw the gemstone glitter between bright magenta, dark green, various yellows and blues, then back again, and she smiled.

“Try it on,” Anya suddenly encouraged, her eyes glinting. “Find a finger and wear it the way you would you own.”

Later, they would laugh over this, as looking back, it was rather clear _why_ Anya had such detailed instructions for Rupendra. At the time, Anya had thought she was being rather sly, when in rreality, Rupendra was just _oblivious_ , too raw to ever imagine such a thing for herself.

“How?” Rupendra wondered, frowning.

Anya's smile widened again. “So, if you're single but also in love, you wear it on your right hand, with the crown pointing upwards, toward your fingertips. If single but not in love, you flip it.”

Rupendra nodded, so Anya continued, pleased in the interest.

“For your left hand, if you're dating and in love, that's where it goes, but upside-down,” she said. “And if you're in love and married, or committed if marriage isn't your thing, you wear it upside-right.”

Rupendra tried a few fingers before she realised that, though _her_ fingers were longer, Anya's were thicker; the ring fit on her index finger, instead of the middle, as it did for Anya. She put it on her right hand, upside-down.

Inside, Anya felt faint, but on the outside, only her hands clenched, just for a second. Daring filled her, and she heard herself say, “It's yours. Welcome to the Meadowvale Academy.”

And she meant it, she discovered, right when the meaning of her words caught up with her. She wanted Rupendra to have that ring, and no, not just because of her little scheme. She wanted to truly welcome this girl, and this was her only idea. She didn't think about the implications, the oddness of such a thing, or how, if given to the wrong person, how arrogant such a gesture was. She simply thought, _I'll just grab a new one when I have the cash, later._ And she was fine with that.

Rupendra, however, looked up at her with such stunned and sudden affection, her cheeks pink and her eyes rimmed with tears, and Anya knew she had done the right thing. She knew she had given it to the right person.

And she was correct.

Then, without her control, Rupendra heard herself suddenly blurt out, “Would you coffee me?” in a tiny, stunned voice.

Anya blinked, her eyes widening, before she laughed, her best yet. It was a belly laugh, one that revealed her true emotions, and it made Rupendra grin – and pull her right hand toward herself, pressing the ring to her chest with a warm jolt to her belly.

“I would love nothing more,” Anya agreed.

She was correct about that, too.

* * *

Not once did it seem strange to Anya that they were both girls. Though a virgin and without any experience, and though the turn of the century wasn't such a great time to do so, she didn't seem to understand that it was unusual – to anyone else.

Granted, not everyone reacted poorly, and certainly not within her family. At fourteen, Anya had once confessed that “I’m not sure if I’m a lesbian, but I’m definitely not _straight_ ,” to both Eunice and her mother, and both had been understanding and kind (though later, Eunice confessed that she _hadn't_ understood it until later – and decided she still didn't care.)

But that had been a year ago, and over the course of that year, Anya expressed no desire to pursue anyone, girl or boy; at that time, there were no gender-fluid or non-binary people at the Academy.

Yet.

That afternoon, when the bell rang and forced the two from their new nest, they were both smiling, arms around each other and walking in unison.

To anyone who saw them, because it was the year it was, they were simply new friends, eager to learn about the other and deepen their friendship like all girls did.

And that was most certainly true.

But for either girl, it was so much more than that.


	2. Candour

Anya was disappointed to discover that she and Rupendra shared no other classes but that one spare. It was a disheartening discovery, but strangely, it didn't discourage her. For some reason, she was invested on being this new girl's best friend, as there was something about her familiar as well as brand new.

Therefore, when the day ended, instead of looking for her elder sister, she looked for Rupendra; she remembered her colourful clothing, her shiny hair, and knew she could pick her out of any crowd. She hovered at the most-used exit, hoping it would be most-used by Rupendra, but after twenty minutes of waiting, she was nowhere to be found.

Granted, they hadn’t _mentioned_ meeting after school, but Rupendra _had_ asked about coffee…

By the time Anya even realised that the hallway was almost empty, another ten minutes had passed, and there was still no sign of the person she'd hoped would be her best friend; either Anya had missed her, or she'd used a different exit.

With a defeated sigh, Anya shoved her bag up her shoulder and frowned, giving one more hopeful glance, before she felt her stomach sink, and she gave up.

She turned and went back into the school, making her way to the dorms, eager to just fall into bed and cry, knowing she was probably overreacting, but…

 _But_...

All her life, Anya had rarely been the type to have crushes on anyone. There had been a few cute people she had eyed, but whenever they found out, they made it clear that she disgusted them, and that ended the crushes on the spot. By the time she was set to start high school, she hadn't had a crush in years, finding it difficult to see anyone that way, anymore.

She wanted a best friend; she wanted a lover.

She wanted both.

It was the last gasp of the 90s, and being bisexual was as common as being a unicorn; either you stayed in the closet, played it gay or straight, or flat-out flaunted it.

Anya did none of that. While she was certain she was not straight, putting such a thing into action wasn't easy, especially at the end of the millennium. Her reputation suffered enough; barely in school for a week and already everyone seemed to know who she was.

To add being queer to the mix seemed like public suicide.

_And yet…_

Touching Rupendra's hands had made her blush. Looking into her eyes had made her feel weak in the knees. Realising how beautiful she was had made her heart begin to race…

 _Am I gay, after all?_ she wondered, unlocking the dormitory main building's front door and slipping inside, her eyes mostly on her feet. She didn't want to meet anyone's gaze right now; she was too shaken up, and worried it would make her cry. For the first time since moving in, she was relieved she lived alone, when mere hours prior, she'd cursed her solitude and missed her sisters…

Then, her eyes fell on a pair of shoes she vaguely recognised, and she stopped. Her body screamed at her to keep going, to go to her room and bury herself in her bed, but she stopped, anyway.

There was something about them…

“Uh… An-Anya…?”

She looked up at last, and there she was: Rupendra.

She stood right in front of Anya, her own bag on her shoulder, and she met Anya's gaze with clear hesitation.

“H-hi,” she murmured, “do you remember me--?”

“Of course!” Anya blurted out. “How did the rest of your day go? Was it better? Did you make more friends? How _are_ you?"

The questions poured out of her without control, but that was hard to have while also being eager to know the answers.

Rupendra's eyes widened when she asked, only to warm up and soften once she finished. Something within her, something she'd kept under severe lock and key for an entire year – longer, even – slowly began to unlock. The key was in the right door, and she wanted to turn it, but not if the person on the other side wasn't up for visitors…

She was so lost in her own complex analogy that she forgot to answer for a moment. Anya looked up at her keenly, her eyes bright and looking over her glasses, and it was clear that she was being sincere.

How _had_ her day been…?

For some reason, it now seemed like years ago, instead of hours. She blinked, realising that most of the day had been spent in a strange bubble – not her usual, protective one, but a new one – and she realised it was made up of a new emotion.

“Classes were fine,” she finally managed to get out, stammering a little, her cheeks reddening. “I-I mostly just kept to myself… I wasn't up for much talk…”

Confusion crossed over Anya’s face; with her, Rupendra had been _very_ much up for talk by the time they'd parted for the afternoon.

Rupendra noticed and smiled crookedly. “I didn't really _connect_ with anyone… uh, anyone _else_ … The classes were good, though. I start my magic classes on Wednesday.”

Suddenly, Anya's eyes widened, and she stood up as tall as she could. Her heart sped up with hope, and she squeaked out, “Which period? Class?”

Rupendra felt the same hope and said, “Second; first.”

Anya felt herself go deaf, her whole body flashing cold, then hot, and she felt herself grin, forgetting to censor her smile in her joy. “Me too!” she cried.

Rupendra seemed to deflate, though she smiled bright. “That's a relief,” she confessed. “The idea of using magic intimidates me… I'm barely used to it being a reality at all, let alone ready to _use_ it!"

Anya smiled. “I can help you; I’ve been into it all my life!”

Rupendra blinked. “Then why are you only in the beginner's class, with me?"

Anya sighed, her smile fading, and she lowered her gaze. “That,” she murmured, “is a long story.”

Rupendra suddenly felt scared, worried she’d crossed the line, until…

“C'mon, come over to my dorm. We'll talk about it and I can prepare you for what to expect.”

Rupendra's breaths grew fast, but she tried not to think about what made them do so. “Oh-oh, your dorm room? Are you--? Which floor--?”

Anya's smile returned, and without a second thought, she said, “Follow me!” and grabbed Rupendra's hand, pulling her into the hallway and down it, threading around everyone else with practised eased.

Rupendra let herself be swept up, holding Anya's damp hand for dear life as she watched dozens of faces blur by, their shocked expressions oddly buoying her up.

 _This person is special_ , she realised. _And she thinks I’m special enough to pay attention to me…?_

She had no idea how true that statement was.

Yet.

But she was indeed that special; Anya _was_ paying a great deal of attention to her for that and more. And while, by now, she had a vague idea of how friendly Anya was, even _she_ knew that this kind of attention was unusual.

For once, Rupendra sensed no ultimate end goal. Anya's intentions weren't clear, but they were genuine and honest; Rupendra could easily see _that_.

Anya's heart was soaring, almost as fast as she continued to dash, and she almost tripped several times in her eagerness. She called out apologies and well wishes, but nothing stopped her.

That was, until they had turned three more corners – and had landed in front of Anya's door.

They stopped so suddenly that Rupendra collided into Anya – and the way Anya caught her suggested she had expected it (she had – even planned for it).

Rupendra gasped, blushing bright red, but instead of moving away in embarrassment, she froze, stunned.

Anya smiled up at her, her thick eyebrows disappearing beneath her bangs, but to Rupendra's disappointment, Anya then let her go and moved away, instead starting to look for her keys.

Anya was embarrassed, but for different reasons. She had thought it would be a kind of _moment_ , that doing that would make her intentions clear. But when Rupendra merely gasped and blinked at her, her eyes unfocused and dizzy, Anya suddenly felt like she was taking _advantage_ , and all while not even knowing if Rupendra was into girls, too…

Rupendra's vision finally stopped spinning, and she frowned, disappointed. She looked down, smoothed her palms over her clothes, then cleared her throat, just as Anya's door unlocked.

“Uh,” Anya then said, her back still to Rupendra's. “Do you still wanna talk?”

“Yes,” Rupendra said right away, without hesitation and with some eagerness. Hastily, she added, “I'm _desperate_ to know more about magic…”

Anya's stomach settled a little and she nodded, reminding herself of the reason why she was doing this. She pushed the door open and led Rupendra in, relieved she'd had the foresight to lazily tidy before she left that morning…

Rupendra walked in – and stared, stunned. Anya's dorm was almost like a _flat_ , instead of a simple, slightly-smaller-sized master bedroom, like Rupendra’s – the standard.

Anya clearly was not a standard student.

Therefore, Rupendra walked into a _huge_ room, one split in two by wooden privacy screens; half was Anya's hidden bedroom, and the half they walked into was a kind of TV/living room, complete with a couch, two armchairs, a console table, TV, and several consoles, as well as a wall of VHSs _and_ DVDs. There was a second door, one that led to a private, tiny bathroom, but Rupendra stared at it with deep envy.

And books. The entire room was littered with books; the walls and floors were covered in them. There were pathways made through them, and Anya walked them like a pro; she had clearly been living here longer than the week prior to the school had been open – all the time Rupendra got to acclimate to her own...

“Oh,” Anya said suddenly, noticing Rupendra’s wide eyes. “The perks of being a Headmistress's daughter – a good dorm.”

Suddenly, she heard herself add, “You can come in and hang out any time you want – even if you’re just sick of sharing a toilet with other people.”

She went to her bedroom side and tossed her bag in as she spoke, her moves easy and casual – all lies. She was _nervous_ , her heart racing and her mind not helping her whatsoever; it had teamed up against her with her—

“Really?” Rupendra murmured, fearful that it was too good to be true. “Would you mind if I used…? I-I mean, if it's okay…? Your shower…?”

Her tone had Anya turning back to her, her face worried. “Yes, of course,” she agreed, meaning it. “Is there a problem with the communal showers? I can tell my mother – well, technically she's my _demi-_ mother, but--,”

“People keep using that word, but I don't get it!” Rupendra suddenly cried. She didn't know why, not really; perhaps it was to stop the questioning, afraid Anya would come to the correct conclusion, and she wasn't ready for that.

Anya blinked, then smiled, sensing the urge to change the subject. She actually didn't know what Rupendra was hiding, wasn't even close to getting to it, but she understood the need for privacy, and she let it go.

Instead, she invited Rupendra to settle in, to put her bag and coat aside, to relax on the couch or one of the chairs. After a second of fear, Rupendra gingerly went over to the couch, sitting down on one corner, making herself as small as possible. She set her bag at her feet, making sure she could grab it in a hurry, and she made sure she had access to the exit, too.

Anya then sat down beside her, distracting her. She sat a foot or two away, but close enough to make both girls blush shyly.

“’Demi' is the word we use for relatives that are connected to us _there_ , but not _here_ ,” Anya then explained, leaning forward and holding up both hands, one up and one two. “So, Eunice is my demi-sister, because she's my sister _there_ , but not _here_. Get it?”

Rupendra nodded; she did. “And _there_ ,” she stammered, “ _there_ is where our magic comes from? How we can use it?”

Anya nodded. “Dream Land is a purely magical place,” she agreed, lowering her hands. “Any magic we have is from there, and _we_ only get it because we're _split_.”

Rupendra suddenly realised how lucky she was; she had befriended an expert, someone who could help her understand this new world, but without making her feel like a fool, like she did with everyone else.

“And _split_ means… our souls are cut in two…?” she tried.

And like she hoped, Anya held her hands up again and explained. “We _call_ it ‘soul', because we don't _really_ know what it is, but yes. Half is _here_ and half is _there_ , which is why we're able to use magic.”

“ _Why_ , though?” Rupendra burst out, having held that question in for far too long. “Why did that happen? _How_?”

Anya smiled. “Ah, the mysteries of the universe,” she replied. She held her right hand up and said, “All we know is that, once, our two worlds _were_ the same, were one, were like symbiotes. But something happened, either prehistorically or historically, erased or hidden, and there was a split, a break-up. Now, it exists only in our dreams – and even then, only a few of us.”

Anya sighed with slight resignation, her smile fading, and she looked ahead, feeling some confusion, herself. “Honestly, it scares me. The older this world gets, the sicker it gets, and I sometimes wonder if it's _because_ of that break-up…”

“Has anyone tried to fix it? Like…” Rupendra frowned, too. “Magical superglue?”

Anya sighed again, sagging a little. “ _Many_ times. There's only one thing that could ever do it, and it hasn't been seen in ages…”

Rupendra blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Anya agreed, her voice soft, “the Talisman. The last known user was a human, and before the split, so it's assumed that it either has to do _with_ humanity's lack of magic, or _was_ the reason magic left them, and it died with the last Talisman…”

Rupendra's mind swam. “I really thought asking you would _help_ my confusion, but I’m lost, again…”

Anya suddenly chuckled, nodding and scratching at her bangs shyly. “Yeah, even _I_ get lost, and I’m the demi-sister of the next heir…”

“Wait, _what_?”

Anya turned to Rupendra, and saw that the older girl's face was stunned.

“Heir? Wait, so your sister, Eunice…? _She's_ …?!”

“Vatta,” Anya supplied, her smile now wan. Here it was, at last: the fawning. “She's the Goddess-Queen's heir, Mondina's oldest. I'm adopted, remember?”

Rupendra suddenly felt tossed to the wind. _No wonder her dorm room is so big!_

“You're a _princess_!” she blurted out.

Anya's expression went sour. “No, I’m not, not really,” she protested. “I'm adopted, thus I’m not royalty. I want to be a Royal Guard, not a Queen.”

“Royal Guard?” Rupendra echoed, feeling like a parrot. She did, however, recall the day she arrived, when she'd met the Headmistress, and had noticed that her desk had been flanked by two people, just standing there, looking _through_ her…

“Yeah,” Anya said, her voice low and soft. She was looking at the floor, now, her fingers playing with the ghost of her ring. “I just want to be a Royal Captain. That’s it. I want to _protect_ people, not _rule over_ them…”

“And you want to be friends with _me_?!”

The words were high-pitched and squeaky, the shock obvious – and heartbreaking – within Rupendra's voice.

But truly, now that she had more details, she felt overwhelmed, as if standing on a ledge meant for someone else, and she had to jump off to make room…

Suddenly, she felt Anya's hand take hold of her own, and she looked up, surprised.

Anya was staring at her, her expression hurt and confused.

“Yes,” she agreed, holding Rupendra's hand tight. “I want to be friends with you. I like you. I… I don't have friends, so if you would rather not be, I get that, but…”

“No, I mean, why would you want to be friends with someone like _me_?!” Rupendra squeaked out. “I'm a nobody, I tried to kill myself, I'm--,”

“I don't care,” Anya snapped, stopping her from blurting it all out – luckily. “I like you.”

Rupendra blushed deeply, her eyes going to Anya's and seeing sincerity there. Sincerity, and…

Anya stared back, her heart racing and her breaths shallow. Her eyes searched the other girl's, feeling herself starting to tremble, and she felt more confusion flow through her.

 _I want to kiss her,_ she realised quite suddenly. _But if I do it, am I being gross? I don't even know if she likes girls!_

But suddenly, she felt Rupendra slide her fingers through Anya's, so that their hands were entwined, now. Her palm was sweaty, but so was Anya's, and she decided it was a good sign.

Rupendra realised all at once how she, herself, felt, and she’d barely recognised it, having never felt it before now – and yet now that she had, she couldn't get it to stop.

“I like you, too,” she suddenly heard herself whisper.

Anya jumped, her eyes widening, until she understood that she might be reading too much into it, like usual. She wondered if she should pull away, if she should let go, until…

Anya didn't know what she was doing until she was watching her own hand do it: her fingers curved around Rupendra's cheek, finding it soft and smooth, save a few marks from acne here and there, and she felt her insides melt. Her eyes darted down to Rupendra's mouth, noticing the fullness of those lips, the allure of them…

And then, to her shock, she watched the older girl's eyes do the same to her own, and she stopped breathing completely, forgetting how to in this stunning discovery.

Slowly, as if drawn by a string, both leaned toward each other, Anya's hand staying in place, Rupendra moving her other hand up to touch Anya…

Then, reality crashed into Rupendra, the second she felt her body's reaction to this, and she gasped and jerked back, pulling her hands away and holding them to her, curling up and away as she struggled to calm herself down, terrified, now.

Anya’s stomach fell, feeling like it was made of spiky rocks, and her hands dropped. She didn't move, was unable to speak, as if she did, she knew she would start to cry, and that was the _last_ thing she wanted, now.

“I'm sorry,” Anya breathed out weakly. “I-I'm sorry, I didn't know if… I didn't mean to pressure… I want you to still be my friend, but--,”

Suddenly, Rupendra raised a hand and held it up between them, and Anya went silent.

“I _do_ ,” she heard Rupendra whisper. “I… I'm… I'm… a... a lesbian…”

It was the first time she had said it aloud since leaving home, and instead of making her feel wretched, like usual, she felt… oddly comforted. Soothed by the reality of it.

It _was_ true, after all.

Anya jumped. “You are? Wait, so…?” She hesitated, then reached out and took hold of Rupendra's held-up hand, pulling it to her.

When this was allowed, she moved her fingers up, from her palm to her wrist, over her scar. “ _This_ was because of…?”

“Yes,” Rupendra gasped out, starting to cry from both shock – and gratitude. “Part of it. Yes.”

Anya felt her heart crack, remembering how warmly her own coming out to her demi-family had been (she had yet to tell her _human_ family, and wondered if she even should). She had no idea how horrible it felt to be rejected for it, and clearly, that rejection had almost killed this poor girl.

And that hurt Anya, more than she could ever imagine.

Rupendra waited for it. She was poised, prepared, tensed and ready and expecting the inevitable rejection…

“I'm so sorry,” Anya whispered, and she indeed started to cry, her voice wavering. “I'm so sorry you were treated badly... just for being _yourself_ …”

Rupendra went still, stunned. Slowly, she raised her head, and slower, she turned it to Anya, who sat, still holding her hand between her own, looking at her with that deep empathy, with _understanding_ as well as sympathy, and…

“I'm queer,” Anya blurted out.

Rupendra went red with shock, but Anya quickly added, “Reclamation. It's being reclaimed, now. I use it to take it back. I'm…” She frowned. “Bi? But I don't care about gender, I think, I dunno… either way, I’m not straight.”

Rupendra felt such camaraderie that she smiled, tiny and unsure, but real. “Me neither,” she confessed, and instead of dread, like always, she felt hope.

_If she doesn't care… then…_

“I like you, Rupendra…” Anya whispered. “I… thought, when you asked me to coffee, you meant—,”

“I _did_!” Rupendra broke in quickly, turning back to her and taking hold of her hand, too. Her face was drawn with her grief and tears, but so was Anya's. “I _did_ mean it like that, but I didn't know if… well…”

Anya suddenly laughed, the absurdity of it all making her. “Then we're on the same page!” she observed, her heart starting to heal, just a little, with hope.

But then, Rupendra again looked so sad, and Anya felt afraid.

“It's…” Rupendra answered, looking down at their hands, instead, at the ring now on her finger, and it made her braver. “It's _more_ than that. It's true that being a lesbian caused… that… but there's _more_ to it than that…”

“I don't care--,” Anya began, meaning it.

“You might,” Rupendra interjected, her voice thick with self-loathing. “Anya, I _am_ a lesbian. I'm a girl, and I only like girls…”

Her heart stopped, and she just forced it out, “But I wasn't _raised_ as a girl… and when I wanted to be, I was... rejected…”

Anya blinked, not getting it at first. Slowly, she went over Rupendra's words, and soon, she began to get it.

“Not raised a girl…?” Anya repeated, making the other girl flinch, waiting for worse. “So, you're…?”

She frowned, annoyed for a moment that the word didn't come to her, even as her brain caught up to what that meant.

“It’s called trans gender,” Rupendra whispered, her head lowered and her eyes closed. She held Anya’s hand tight, hoping to keep it for just a moment more. “I was born male, but I’m really a girl. I just _am_.”

Anya’s expression fell completely, but not for the reasons expected. “That's so _stupid_ …” she began, mortifying Rupendra, until she added, “Gender is just a role, so who cares if someone changes it? If it feels right, and it hurts no one, then it _is_ right.”

Rupendra gaped at her, but Anya merely raised her chin, eager to defend that point. Just like her own sexuality, this was something that simply was, not something to angst over. The fact that a family would reject their own, for something as small as a gender-change, enraged Anya, to the point of making her cry harder.

Her tears stunned Rupendra, who watched them in silence, frozen cold. “You…?” she stammered, unable to say anything else.

Anya saved her from that. “I don't _care_ , remember?” she answered sharply, her voice louder, now. “Like I said, I like _both_ , so _whatever_! Besides, if you're a girl, and so am I, and if you're a lesbian, you _could_ like me!”

She didn't realise how hopeful she sounded until she finished speaking, and heard it, herself. She was embarrassed, but to her surprise, Rupendra was not only smiling a little, but nodding.

“Yes,” she agreed. “I would like to like you. Very much.”

Which brought them right back to what had stopped them, before.

Anya swallowed hard. “You don't mind that I’m not really an heir, that I’ll never rule?”

“No,” Rupendra agreed. “As you can imagine, I'm rather private..."

Slowly, as they spoke, their heads moved closer together, their eyes darting down, then back, then down, and again, until…

“Please,” Anya whispered, just when they were mere centimetres apart, and Rupendra closed her eyes in agreement, her hold on Anya's hand tight.

Their lips touched, and both froze, the feeling new and alien but electric, addictive, delicious…

Anya's hand upon Rupendra's cheek went hot, and she pushed closer, pressing her lips firmer against the other girl's, and they shared a shiver, the feelings of delight deepening, kindling…

The moment she felt her body react, Rupendra broke the kiss, embarrassed and ashamed by how it reacted, but when her eyes opened, Anya was smiling at her, her hand still upon her cheek.

“So…” Anya then whispered, her smile turning sly. “Coffee?”

Rupendra laughed, and right then, in that same minute, both fell in love.

And neither looked back.


End file.
